


A Reflection On Dorian Gray

by jay_of_the_beholder



Category: Role Initiative
Genre: Background Relationships, Blood and Violence, Canon Backstory, Flirting, Homoeroticism, M/M, Minor Character Death, Murder, Oscar Wilde but it's my d&d character, Tragic Romance, What Have I Done, idk what else to tag tbh, m/m - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:34:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24673921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jay_of_the_beholder/pseuds/jay_of_the_beholder
Summary: Oscar hasn't spent a day without recalling the events preceding his incarceration. He reflects on the day his life went to hell.
Relationships: Background Dorian Gray/Basil Hallward (Role Initiative), Minor or Background Relationship(s), Oscar Barron/Dorian Gray (Role Initiative)
Kudos: 1





	A Reflection On Dorian Gray

Oscar sighs, his hair falling lightly over his face as he turns his gaze down at the lyre in his hand. He strokes the strings delicately, a melody drifting through the warm summer air that flows in through the open window, and hums along to the tune.

He is aware of the door opening, but chooses not to address it and pretends he doesn’t notice the figure staring at him across the room. He does, however, hum a little louder. Perhaps he adds a bit more flourish to the hand that is plucking at the instrument.

He knows the man listening has closed his eyes, knows the calm look that crosses his face as he allows Oscar’s music to wash over him and drown the world away, if only for a moment. Oscar finishes the song after an appropriate amount of time before looking up, brushing his hair back from his forehead.

“Hello darling,” he drawls, sliding his eyes over the man that had entered the room. “How are you today?”

The man, whom Oscar knows as Dorian, gives him an amused look; one he knows quite intimately.

“Fine.” A simple answer for such a complicated being. It’s quite poetic. Dorian strides over to where Oscar is draped, perching himself lightly on one knee over him.

Their dance is a familiar one; Dorian leaning down and tilting Oscar’s chin up just so, only to stop before their lips properly brush. Oscar feels Dorian’s breath against his lips and his eyes flutter as his body decides how to respond to the advances. Somehow it’s so much more intoxicating than a kiss; being brought just within reach yet with temptation itself the only thing standing in his way. The only thing he can never resist.

He hears Dorian smile, a soft exhalation of breath, before pressing their lips together briefly. Oscar is left quite breathless as Dorian sits down properly on the chaise lounge, launching into a short ramble about the useless servant down the hall. Once again, Dorian has taken control of the situation Oscar was sure he had under his own.

It’s maddening.

He gets up as Dorian speaks, placing the lyre gently on its pedestal. He turns gracefully on his heel to stride back over to the lounge, taking a seat with crossed ankles and a carefully monitored posture. He does have an appearance to keep up, after all.

“I simply don’t understand why the entire serving staff seems unable to do their job.” Dorian’s face is not one of anger, merely mild irritation. “Our serving staff is always the best. We drop those that aren’t useful. You should start employing that.”

“Mhm,” Oscar hums, more out of acknowledgement than actual consideration. He knows Dorian is merely making conversation, and it’s not unlike either of them to be overdramatic about minor inconveniences. He does put it away for later consideration, though. His serving staff has been a bit lacking lately.

While Dorian continues on he turns and leans back to rest his head on the man’s lap, kicking his feet up and over the cushion. Dorian adjusts to this easily, as Oscar does it quite often, and shifts to run his hand through the short curls on Oscar’s head. He closes his eyes and listens, noting the subtle tones in Dorian’s voice as they rise and fall like a melody through his ears. It’s quite calming, and it’s nearly enough to drown out the outside world entirely.

However, Oscar would be damned if he didn’t have a good ear.

“What was that?” He sits up, nearly knocking Dorian in the jaw if the man hadn’t excellent reflexes.

“What was what?” Dorian asks somewhat redundantly, clearly having noticed something amiss as well.

Sounds of conflict floated through the closed door from down the hall, quickly approaching. Oscar prides his ability to adapt and respond to situations quickly, and in one movement takes Dorian’s hands and maneuvers him so that he is hidden behind the lounge. Dorian, bless him, trusts Oscar immediately and goes where he is led. It’s a good thing too, because when the door opens a moment later, Oscar appears to be by himself.

Basil Hallward has no business being in this area of the kingdom, much less in Oscar’s music room. Nonetheless there he stands in the doorway, and Oscar can see the magic flowing around him. He’s only seen Hallward like this once before, and it thankfully had not been directed at him. Unfortunately, this time the magic crackling around the man seems to grow angrier as the wizard’s gaze fixes on him. Though the words that exit Hallward’s mouth are not any he had expected to hear.

“Where is he?” He is nothing like Dorian. Where Dorian’s tones carry light and mirth, Basil Hallward’s carry darkness and carnage. Oscar has little idea how Dorian managed to get on with him for so long, with their opposing personalities. It makes less sense for Oscar and Hallward to be on opposing sides, with Dorian playing the rope in a game of tug-of-war. Yet, here they are, and Oscar knows just how interested he is in entertaining Hallward for longer than is necessary.

“Well, you really must be more specific, Basil. Where is who?” His tongue clicks on the R, and he allows himself to bask in the moment when Hallward’s face reflects just how much he hates when Oscar does that. It’s quite amusing.

“Don’t play games with me, Wilde.” Hallward’s voice grates on his ears again, and he has to keep himself from wincing. Unfortunately, his little game comes to an abrupt halt when the wizard’s eyes drift over his shoulder.

“Basil, what do you need?” Dorian’s sharp voice cuts across the air. Oscar glances over at him, his breath threatening to escape once again at the sight of his lover’s cold gaze. “We have spoken already. There is no need to bring your  _ issue _ here.”

Now, that gets Oscar’s attention.

“Is there a problem, darling?”

Dorian gives him a thinly-veiled, exasperated look. Hallward answers his question.

“There is a problem, Wilde. And it’s you.”

Oscar raises an eyebrow, bringing a hand to his chest. “I am not accustomed to being the problem, Basil, but rather the solution.”

The corner of Hallward’s mouth twitches upward, and Oscar thinks he can see the beginnings of a smile. Unexpected.

“Perhaps you’re right,” he sneers. “Perhaps you are the solution. Perhaps that’s why I came here.”

Oscar is missing something. He hates missing things.

“Basil. Leave. You have no business here, with me or with Oscar.”

Hallward chuckles, taking a step forward. Oscar shifts in front of Dorian.

“I think I do, actually. I think my business is right here, with  _ both _ of you.”

Oscar bites back a snide comment. One look at Dorian tells him it’s not the time. Something happened between the two of them, and he has a guess as to what it was.

Dorian had been talking to him about Hallward. A few weeks ago, Oscar was informed that Basil had been showing more obvious signs of affection towards Dorian. This was not out of character, and Oscar couldn’t find it in himself to blame Hallward because if they could agree on one thing, it’s Dorian’s beauty. Still, while Oscar had been a bit quick to jump on protectiveness, Dorian had assured him the situation would be handled and that he needn’t get involved.

It seems the situation required more handling than Dorian had expected.

“I would do anything for you, Dor. You know I would,” Hallward chimes, taking another step forward. “And he’s the only thing in your way from getting what you  _ want _ .”

“He doesn’t want you,” Oscar spits before he can stop himself.

“He can speak for himself,” Basil snaps back.

“ _ He _ would like you both to shut your mouths before he does it for you,” Dorian cuts in, pulling Oscar back a bit. “I  _ can _ speak for myself, and here is what I have to say.” He steps toward Hallward, who stops in his tracks to listen.

“I told you who I love, and it still stands. I told you what I have chosen. Now I ask you to respect my choice.”

Oscar sees something flash in Hallward’s eyes.

“Your choice was made for you, Dor. I’m giving you a chance to be free.” His eyes flick to Oscar. “I’m doing this for you, Dorian.” Oscar can barely register the words before a flash of light shoots from Hallward’s outstretched palm. His body braces instinctively as something shoves into him. He tumbles to the side, his eyes pressed shut as his shoulder hits the floor  _ hard _ .

It takes a moment for him to realize that his shoulder is the only thing that hurts.

Oscar’s eyes fly open and he sits up, glancing around. Basil is stood where he was before, however his hands are covering his mouth and tears have begun to stream down his face.

Dorian is nowhere to be found.

“Dorian?” Oscar stands, looking wildly around the room. “Dorian!”

Basil falls to his knees, but his gaze is fixed on an object across the room. A vanity, surface covered in various cosmetics and papers that contained Oscar’s scrawled script and smears of ink. Attached to the desk stood a mirror lined with gold, regal in scale and stature. Within the mirror a face peers back at Oscar that is not his own.

Dorian’s hand presses against the glass, a curious look on his face. It takes only moments for both Oscar and his lover to realize what has been done.

“Dorian!” Oscar runs over to the vanity, pressing his hands against the glass in a vain attempt to find a way in. To find Dorian a way out. He scrabbles against the smooth plane for longer than is necessary, and realizes soon after that Dorian is merely staring at him. He watches as Dorian looks at him, then at Basil, and shakes his head, muttering something to himself. Oscar can only hear silence. He turns sharply and angrily, making a beeline for his cane. Without hesitation, he draws his rapier from it, stalking toward Basil with one intent.

Hallward is quick on his feet and, right before Oscar can make a move, he dives out of the way as Oscar swings and misses. A moment later he feels his limbs freeze up, and his sword clatters to the floor. Hallward tackles him and manages to get Oscar pinned underneath him. It doesn’t last long, however, as there is a banging sound coming from the mirror. Oscar feels his limbs loosen and uses the distraction to roll out from underneath the man, who curses as he scrambles up from the floor. Oscar risks a glance at the mirror, where Dorian is glaring at both of them and thumping his fist on the glass.

Hallward hears this as well, and after seeing Dorian turns to Oscar.

“This is your fault!”

Oscar looks at him incredulously. “How in the world is this  _ my _ fault? You’re the one who put him in there!” Hallward cries out and lunges at him. This time, Oscar is able to dodge out of the way as the wizard stumbles past. The bard dashes over to the vanity, pulling open a drawer full of various objects and fumbling for a piece of wire. He finds one quickly and reaches out with his mind, the wire turning to dust in his hand.

_ I’ll save you from him. I swear, _ he whispers, and he sees Dorian’s face set.

_ I loved him too, you know. _

“What?” Oscar says aloud, just before something grabs him. There is a hand on the back of his head, pushing his face down onto the desk. A hot pain flares from his nose and his vision darkens briefly. He only sees blood spattered paper before he is forced down again. This time he turns his head to the side and hears a crack as the side of his face hits the table twice more. Everything is beginning to blur, and Oscar can barely feel the hand grabbing him by the hair.

He does feel it when the side of his face is slammed into the mirror, and a loud crack splits the air.

He doesn’t have much time to process this, however, as a sharp pain drags down the length of his face. His consciousness drifts away briefly, then comes back full force when he hits the ground, apparently having been let go by Hallward. Oscar mumbles a random phrase under his breath, feeling a bit of life come back into him. He blinks hard, trying to dispel the red haze in his eyes, and sees Hallward standing over the desk, staring at…

Staring at the pieces of a shattered mirror.

He doesn’t realize Oscar has begun to sit up, thoughtlessly grabbing a shard of the mirror off of the floor next to him. Hallward lets out a choked sob, clutching the pieces as best he can given their tendency to cut. Oscar moves slowly and takes a deep breath, before lunging upward with the shard clutched in his hand. He can feel it dig further into his palm as he shoves it into the side of Hallward’s neck. The man lets out only a choked gasp before collapsing with Oscar in tow. Oscar allows them both to sink to the ground, falling back and leaving the shard in Hallward’s neck. He turns his head and watches Hallward’s blood pool with his own on the floor as the life drains from the man.

_ I loved him too. _

Dorian’s harsh whisper echoes in his head. His eyes drift to another shard on the floor between them, and he thinks he sees a face staring back disappointedly. Not angry, never angry. Only mildly irritated. As if their fight had been a minor inconvenience.

Oscar closes his eyes then, because the blood he’s sure is coming from several places on the right side of his face is beginning to obscure his vision. The pain is numbing, distracting, and quite possibly one of the best feelings; second only to the adrenaline pumping through his veins.

It did not occur to Oscar Wilde until after he woke up, broken and bloodied in a prison cell, that there are repercussions for killing a man. Not to mention being a sole witness, and prime suspect, to the disappearance of the only heir to a prominent royal family. The Wildes and the Grays had been simmering in tension that had been one disappearance away from boiling over, and so a proper feud began. Oscar, having learned a few skills from escaping his tutors and finding a small shard of glass embedded in his side that had been neglected in his minimal medical treatment, he managed to escape.

Oscar Fingal O’Flahertie Willis Wilde became simply Oscar Barron, and he can only guess as to how his escape and disappearance was responded to by both noble families. He managed to make his way back to get a few things before properly escaping, running as far away as he could, carrying only what he’d managed to take silently from his old life.

And the shard. The shard of glass that was embedded in his side he kept. He’s still not sure why, perhaps to catch a glimpse of his lover out of the corner of his eye one last time. Perhaps he hopes Dorian will smile at him instead of that cold, disappointed glare. He hears Dorian’s voice in his nightmares, doesn’t meditate for days on end just so he can avoid hearing those words in his head again.

Dorian Gray’s last words.

_ I loved him too. _

Oscar knows Dorian blames him, yet spends nights and days trying to figure out why. He concludes that he should have known Dorian loved Hallward in return, should have seen it and should have let Dorian go.

But Oscar is nothing if not selfish and vain.

He hates that even now he would not die for Dorian, where Dorian had not hesitated to push him out of harm's way. He hates each and every time he flirts with someone else, hates every time he does someone a service for a free night’s stay or a meal. He hates the mask he wears to hide the scars from that day. He hates how easily he falls into a routine with the halfling he just met, who is so much  _ different _ . Who gives Oscar a chance and despite his protests about Oscar’s subpar personality... stays.

Oscar Barron hates what he’s become: a murderer, a fugitive, a disgrace. A pretty face hiding a monster behind it. But at this point, what hope does he have to change?

**Author's Note:**

> :(


End file.
